


Face to the Sky

by Jairissa



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-22
Updated: 2011-01-22
Packaged: 2017-10-14 23:11:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/154511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jairissa/pseuds/Jairissa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Contrary to what history would say, theirs was not a love story and Remus was not a romantic hero. He was simply adept at making promises he had no intention of keeping.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Face to the Sky

She came to Remus in the wake of his grief and his guilt. Her soft, warm hands stroked his hair, pressed against his brow and rested lightly on his shoulders as he hunched himself into a ball on his tattered chair and willed himself not to cry. Sometimes he was successful, sometimes not. The important thing was that Sirius failed in his promise: once again he had gone and Remus was alone.

One day, as she sat beside him, pink hair the defining glow in a dim room, Tonks took his hand between the two of her own. There was a gentle smile on her face and Remus' eyes clenched closed so that he could not see the foreign land that any type of kindness had become to him.

"Tell me what's wrong, Remus," she said, the sympathy in her voice an acid on his already burning wounds. "I know he was your friend..."

"He wasn't my friend," Remus snarled, snatching his hand away forcefully, sending her own flying against her chest. She kept it there, pressed to her heart, her eyes wide and astonished. Remus glared at her for the display of weakness, standing so that he did not have to see the burgeoning hurt in her achingly familiar grey eyes. He repeated himself, slapping a lamp for the sheer pleasure of seeing it fall to the ground and shatter. "He was everything else but that. Friend doesn't begin to cover what he was to me. I loved him. He loved me. Never once, for one moment, was he just my friend."

"Remus," Tonks whispered again, her mouth twisted into a horrified grimace. She stood, bustling to his side so that he could lay her hands on him again. Remus recoiled in disgust, shoving her away, his stomach heaving in outrage. He wasn't comfortable being touched, he never had been. Sirius had been the one who had taught him the value of casual, unconscious touches and shameless, blatant caresses. Now he had taken them away and Remus doubted that he would ever be desirous of them again. "I'm sorry. I didn't...Remus, I didn't know."

Remus snorted, but his heart wasn't in it. He watched her helplessly, scrutinising the grey eyes that were fixed remorsefully on his own. The colour was identical, hauntingly so in fact. What Remus couldn't grasp was how two things so very much the same could be so utterly, irredeemably, heartrendingly different.

It was as though the universe was taunting him. He was starting to believe that the only justification for the hideous comedy of his existence.

Anger, righteous or otherwise, was invigorating and with its loss Remus moaned and staggered to the lounge, collapsing against the knobbly fabric. He raised his hands to rub the pain out of his eyes and ended up keeping them there to shield his face when he began to weep.

Tonks settled beside him, the searing reminder of how far away the things in his heart now were, rested her head on his shoulder and cried with him.

***

He finally rid himself of her by pretending to fall asleep, exhausted from his appalling display of feeling. She left quietly, pulling a blanket over his prone form and only tripped twice on her way out the door. Remus supposed that she must be used to the sound she created. There was no other excuse for her being able to believe he wouldn't have woken up at her uncoordination.

He thought himself free to wallow in his lamentations but she came back the next day, and the one after that, then again and again, until the days melted into each other and she became as familiar to him as the wallpaper in his room. It didn't seem to matter to her, how tightly Remus locked his doors or how many Charms he used to try and keep it that way. Whenever he woke he would find Tonks there, cheerfully making tea, pawing through his Defence Against the Dark Arts books or pottering around making herself cumbersomely at home.

Some days Remus found the strength to shout and force her out of the house. Others he sat still, too drained to do anything other than stare numbly as she chattered about the Aurors, Quidditch and how overprotective her mother still was, and wasn't that just irritating?

Ultimately it was easier to give in rather than to confront. If he chose not to engage she seemed happier and was more likely to drop her customary kiss on his cheek and dart gracelessly out of Grimmauld Place to whatever insignificant thing she had decided to do that day.

The fact that Tonks seemed happy in his presence Remus had thus far assumed was another attempt to cheer him up. If allowing her to stay had been his first mistake, his second had been allowing himself to believe that for so long. He had a distinct impression it wasn't to be his last.

Tonks burst in, ungainly as always, knocking over a small side table. Her pretty face was cheerful but there was a substance to it that Remus had not seen before. He couldn't help but be apprehensive. In his experience that mix of anticipation and excitement in a Black could only lead to disaster. The single variable was whether he would burn in the resulting explosion or watch from a distance as everything he cared for went up in flames.

"We need to talk," she announced, fidgeting with the lid of the sugar bowl. She seated herself at the kitchen table and looked up at Remus resolutely. Remus closed his eyes so that she wouldn't see him roll them, but reopened them and sat obediently. He tried to hold on to the hope that his policy of peaceful non-engagement had finally worked and that she had decided he was now safe to be left on his own.

Ridiculous, really. He had never been that blessed.

"Yes, of course," Remus said politely. He folded his hands on the table, watching her with the mild expression that he had practiced so carefully for his students.

"I've been thinking," she started, ducking her head so that her face was hidden by a fringe of her bright pink hair. She looked back up at Remus with a shy smile and he seed of dread started to bloom somewhere in his stomach. "I've come to care for you, very much. And I'd hoped that you might be starting to feel the same way."

Remus closed his eyes for a moment, the chasm that had been ripped open when he'd lost Sirius reopening for a short, suffocating minute. He forced it closed, patching the edges together as neatly as he could in the space between heartbeats. He sent a silent reaffirmation to the heavens, tilting his face to the sky. _No, I will only ever love you_ and reopened them to the nightmare he had never thought to have.

"Tonks," he said appealingly, wanting to grab her by the collar and scream. His mind scrambled through a thousand excuses, entreaties and denials. _No, Sirius, forever, don't understand, too old, too sick. **Too old**. **Werewolf**._ He would have smiled in triumph if he weren't in such a hurry to speak. "Tonks, I'm too old for you. You deserve someone younger, without my particular burdens."

There was a hurt in her eyes, but he found that he could endure it. Remus didn't quite know what to think of that. What sort of man must he be, if he could look into the disappointed eyes of a young woman who had been so very kind to him, and feel nothing but relief?

"I don't think..." she started, but Remus cut her off with a wave of his hand.

"I would understand if you wanted to leave," he said gravely, and kindly. She nodded, standing, the chair toppling as she walked slowly out of the house, tears brimming in her eyes.

He really was a terrible bastard.

If it was possible to hate himself more than he already did, Remus had just found the way to do it.

***

Free, finally, from the daily intrusion that distracted him so thoroughly from his suffering, he threw himself back into it with resolve. He lost weight. He barely got out of bed and when he did it was only to move to the living room floor and stare at the ceiling. If one could enjoy grief, Remus would have said that was what he was doing.

He was dozing in the living room when he heard the familiar slam of the front door and cursed himself for having such a ridiculously unimaginative dream. When he opened his eyes he saw Tonks, glare fading to concern as she took in his dishevelled appearance. When their eyes met she started and determination lit up her soft features.

"I just wanted you to know," she said stalwartly, advancing on his still body. "That I don't care if you're a werewolf, and it doesn't matter than you're older than me. It's just a number, Remus, it doesn't bother me."

Remus' stomach turned and he had to fight to plaster the same mollifying smile on his face that he had used, so obviously effectively, the last time. "I know you say that now," he began and she cut him off before he could articulate himself.

"I mean it," she insisted, hands on her hips. "I swear to you, it doesn't matter to me."

"It matters to me," Remus said, perhaps the only fully truthful thing he had said to her. "I couldn't live with myself if I thought I was holding you back like that, Tonks."

He met her gaze without flinching and she bit her lip, nodding shakily. Looking away to avoid seeing more of her tears, he blinked to drive away his exhaustion. She was gone before his lids opened again.

***

It was a month, this time, before Tonks came back. She moved more slowly, less confidently, and seemed reluctant to look properly at Remus' face. He was tempted to see if he could get away with showing her wordlessly to the door but countless years of innate politeness compelled him to show her to the kitchen, making them both a cup of tea.

"I've never been the sort of person who gives up on what I want," she started as Remus placed the steaming mug in front of her. A wry smile graced her face, camouflaging the characteristic sweetness of it. "Typical Hufflepuff, really. Just keep working at it until you get what you want. Pretty much the house creed. Never give up."

"I'd certainly understand if you wanted to give up on me," Remus said, considerately magnanimous in his victory.

"Do you love me?" Tonks asked abruptly and Remus choked on his tea. It took him a full minute to catch his breath, staring at her in amazement. She bit her lip defensively, hunching a little into her thin Autumn jacket. "Or care about me, at all?"

Remus took a long, shuddering breath, reviewing his old excuses and failing to find a single one that would adequately answer that question. He hesitated for a minute more, blowing on his tea and admiring the way the rising steam obscured her face from his view.

"Tonks," he said quietly, tapping his fingers on the hot ceramic mug. Her face was hopeful under its mop of pink hair and Remus resented her for that. He resented her for putting him in this situation in the first place and for continuing to ensure that he couldn't dig his way out of it. "My feelings here are irrelevant. You have your life ahead of you and you don't want to spend it burdened by an old werewolf with as much baggage as I have."

Tonks' eyes glittered strangely as she observed him through the cloud of steam. "Just academically," she said distantly, leaning forward and cupping her mug in both hands. "If your feelings were relevant, what would they be?"

Giddy with his victory, Remus sighed. "Of course I care for you, Tonks," he lied delicately. "You're a wonderful young woman, and I have much to be grateful to you for..."

"But it's not enough?" She asked despondently and Remus shook his head.

"No," he said sympathetically. "And it shouldn't be for you, either."

***

When she didn't come back Remus thought he might finally have won. He shouldn't have let himself believe it was that easy; nothing ever was. She simply changed tactics and recruited an army of open-hearted followers willing to testify that age and lycanthropy were no obstacle to true love.

Apparently none of them recognized true love, and wouldn't have if it had transformed in front of them and bit them on the nose.

"I'm sorry, Molly, but I'm really quite set on this."

"Please, Minerva, I really don't want to discuss this any further."

"I do understand what you're saying, Hestia, but these are unique circumstances."

"Yes, Kingsley, I'm quite sure. I know you disagree, but I must do what I think is right."

By the end of each conversation, Remus could barely stop himself from screaming.

***

She cornered him eventually, as Remus should have anticipated that she would. With them all there, Harry on the outskirts and the horror of Bill Weasley's scarred face, Remus submitted and allowed a glowing Tonks to take his hand, hearing joyful exclamations at the way happiness could always overcome evil, and wasn't it wonderful!

They stayed as long as decorum dictated and when people started to disperse Tonks dragged him to her apartment, citing how much more cheerful it was than Grimmauld Place and how much more suitable it was to starting their lives together. Remus bared his teeth in an approximation of a smile, following along wherever she led with insincere happiness. He kept his grin plastered to his face with a quiet desperation.

The apartment itself was bright and colourful, like Tonks herself. She fluttered around it, proudly turning lights on and off, tossing clothes over mess, smiling sweetly whenever she looked at him.

It was inevitable they would end up in the bedroom. She stripped them both with practiced ease, smiling cheekily as she raised herself above him. He kept his gaze fixed to her eyes as she put his hands on her breasts and straddled his thighs. He kept it steadily on hers as he turned out the light and concentrated on the stunning greyness in his memory as he gripped her hips and felt her move above him.

***

There were so few opportunities to escape, the handful there were closing significantly when Tonks held his hand joyously to her belly and he numbly said they should just get married then, shouldn't they? They shrank further when he slipped the ring on her finger and saw how her shining happiness lit up the room.

When the chance to follow Harry came along he seized it, desperately, collapsing outside the embodiment of his heaven and his hell after Harry drove home a few truths that Remus supposed he should have realised on his own a long time before.

He returned home to Tonks, surprised to find her waiting for him. She had been at her parents when he left and he supposed that he had expected her to still be there when he got back.

"You left," she said flatly and Remus eyes the way her hands protectively cradled the belly that he could not for the life of himself find a way to care about.

"I just needed to..." he trailed off when he saw the quiet misery in her eyes.

"You left," she repeated and Remus sighed, nodding.

"Yes, I did," he said softly, crossing his arms defensively in front of his chest. He had always despised confrontation, but it seemed that this particular one was unavoidable.

Tonks gasped, the prelude to tears that brimmed in her eyes. He met her waiting gaze and cursed himself a thousand times over for the utter fool he had been.

"Do you love me?" She asked in a crushing tone and Remus felt his chest contract.

"No," he said, the word hanging between them with all the power of a hurricane. She considered it, slowly, the heartbreak on her face fading into quiet torment.

"Do you need me?"

Remus' heart ached, finally, for her and he stepped forward to place his hands on her warm shoulders. "I want to," he said hoarsely. As she raised her face to his Remus promised himself that he would try, properly, this time.

***

He kept his promise as best he could and to his credit he had been genuinely ecstatic when his son had been born with grey eyes and black hair that turned quickly turquoise.

Regardless, when the darkness came for him, Remus was utterly and sincerely grateful that he had, at last, found a way out that he could not be blamed for.


End file.
